Rich (Benson Security #5) - Janet Elizabeth Henderson Page 0,3

financially. Not to mention, we have no idea what connections the new wife brought into the family. I believe he picked this one up in a strip club. Cousin Rupert has a well-known gambling problem—the problem being he never wins. Aunt Clarissa has been in rehab three times. And when she relapses, she’d sell a kidney to get a fix, so it isn’t a stretch to believe she’d sell company secrets instead. And that’s only scraping the surface. Who knows what everyone else is doing behind closed doors? Although I’m sure that information will be fascinating once our tech team digs it up. You may as well face facts; we’re a family of criminals. We just do it wearing Prada.”

To emphasize her point, she brushed some imaginary lint from her black Prada pantsuit.

“Do you really have to be so facetious, Rachel?” Her father dropped back into his seat, looking frustrated. “This is serious. Someone almost stole the details of our flagship drug. We’ve invested ten years in research and development for that drug, and if there hadn’t been a glitch in the system, the information would have made it into the hands of our competitors. If anyone had put it into production before us, it would have meant millions of pounds down the drain. Who knows what our spy has already sold or is planning to sell now? All I know is that if we don’t stop them fast, it will be the end of the company. Is it too much to ask that you sacrifice a few weeks of your life to help prevent that?”

“Is it necessary to be so dramatic?” she asked him.

“Apparently it is, because you aren’t taking this seriously.”

“Oh, I’m taking it very seriously. I just don’t think I’m the best person for the job.”

“You’re the only person for the job.” Callum thumped a fist on the table. “Stop being such a whiny wee wean.”

Rachel gave him an icy stare. “If you’re going to insult me, could you at least do it in English?”

He made a growling sound that was neither Scottish nor English.

Harvard shifted in his seat, drawing all eyes to him. The seams of his blazer strained against his shoulder muscles as he sat up straight. She couldn’t help but appreciate the cut of his jacket and matching black shirt. They’d obviously been tailored to fit his larger-than-average frame to perfection.

When she eventually looked at his face, he had that secretive little smile again. She frowned, and he smiled wider.

“Gentlemen,” he said, his focus still on her, “could you give us the room for a second? I think Rachel and I have to discuss this alone.”

“I disagree,” Rachel said as her father and Callum practically ran out the door.

“Don’t forget we’re having a family dinner tomorrow night,” her father called over his shoulder. “We’re expecting you at seven. No excuses.” He caught Harvard’s eye. “I’m hoping you’ll be able to bring your fiancé along too.”

“Father—”

Callum cut her off. “Family later. Work now.” And then he slammed the door shut behind them, leaving her alone with the man who drove her crazy—even in her dreams.

She narrowed her eyes at the tall American with his rich brown skin and dark, dark eyes. “There’s nothing to discuss. I’m not a security operative. I’m a managing partner.”

“I disagree.” He clasped his hands on the table in front of him. “I think what you are is a coward.”

Rachel gave him a cold smile as she drummed her blood-red nails on the tabletop. “I don’t much care what you think. As I pointed out earlier, I’m your boss. I gave up worrying what employees thought about me before I turned ten.”

“I’m not one of the maids at the family mansion. And you’ve been involved in the security world long enough to know that the team leader has authority over every member of their team. Even if that member is a partner.”

“You might be team leader, but I’m not a member of your team.” She stood, slinging her favorite Hermes handbag over her elbow. “This discussion is over. I’m sure you’ll find a way to run the investigation without me.” She walked around the table, heading for the door. There was a bottle of Merlot at home calling her name.

“What’s the problem exactly?” Harvard turned in his seat to face her. “Are you worried your high-class friends and family will think less of you for bringing home a black man? A working-class American black man at that. They’ll know I’m your